Temptation Has Green Eyes (17 page)

“No. It didn’t matter if we consummated it or not. It was legal.” He gripped her hands firmly. “I didn’t have to come to you that night. But I wanted to.”

“You did?” That thought brightened her mood. “I—I’m not—I didn’t think I was attractive to you.” No other way of putting it. She’d repulsed him. “Or were you involved with someone else? Are you? I promise, I won’t mind—” Although she did. Far more than she should.

“No.” He stopped her before she could go into a complete babbling mess. “I think you’re lovely. Beautiful, in fact. You’re intelligent and poised.” He smiled so warmly she caught her breath. “But I didn’t want to get too close to you. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” She frowned, not understanding. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No.” He hesitated. “Nothing is wrong with you. It was my fault that our wedding night went so badly.” Leaning forward, he touched his lips to her forehead. “And then I compounded my mistake. I let you be to find your own way through the morass of society. I thought you were capable of handling it. Fool that I am, I didn’t know you were struggling. It took someone else to point it out to me, and that’s hard to take. But he was right.”

She wet her lips. “Julius.”

“Yes. He noticed.” With a melancholy smile, he began to undress her. Careful and controlled, he unhooked her bodice, pushed the garment aside, and removed her stomacher. “You had a difficult time tonight. I promise I’ll never put you in that position again.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I was so bound up with my own concerns, I didn’t see yours. That’s unforgiveable, so I won’t ask your forgiveness. Just let me help you now.”

“I forgive you.” She said it so softly, but she meant it. “What good does it do to hold on to grudges?”

He glanced down, his fingers busy on her clothing, his gaze catching hers for a brief moment before sliding away. “You’re more generous than I deserve. I won’t doubt you again.”

“You won’t?” That sounded so sweet to her, but from a man who questioned every business deal he made in minute detail, it also sounded unbelievable.

“I swear.”

When he looked at her with eyes wide, no guile, she believed him.

He eased her gown off her shoulders. It slid down her arms. She stared at him, wondering what he was trying to do. Make love to her? But she was so tired now, and she couldn’t be at all attractive.

So gently she hardly felt it, he traced a line with his finger from her shoulder to her inner elbow. She shuddered. Weak and empty after her bout of crying, she felt entirely in his hands, as if he could do anything to her and she wouldn’t resist.

With a flash of insight, she wondered if men really wanted that, or if they wanted something else? She studied the light in his eyes and the way his attention followed the movement of his fingers, concentrating on his actions.

He undid the cords at her waist, and then slid off the bed, holding out his arms to her.

When she jumped to join him, her petticoats and hoops slid off her in one cataclysmic move, like earth in a mudslide. All the way down. She stepped out of them. After one long look into her eyes, he gave a small smile and dropped to one knee.

She found the movement attractive, far too much. But that had been her trouble. Over this last month, his appeal had increased. The more he treated her with cool civility, the more she wanted him. She’d even take him as he was before. That contact of their bare bodies had been thrilling, and she didn’t know how to cope with it. Or its lack.

After unfastening her garters he slid her silk stockings down her legs so sensuously she flung out a hand for support. And found his head. He had worn a formal wig for tonight’s ball, but sometime between the front door and the bedroom he’d lost it. She touched his hair, dark and smooth, the long tail fastened up. “Why do you wear your hair long?”

He tipped back his head, forcing her to move her hand. “Because it’s easier this way. Some men prefer their hair shaved, some wear it short, but this way I don’t have to bother with wigs most of the time. They itch. I can go bareheaded in the summer, which is infinitely preferable to sweating away under horsehair.” He grinned as if sharing a secret.

She grinned back, feeling younger, more carefree.

Gently he lifted one foot and removed her satin shoe and her stocking before placing her bare foot on the floor and repeating the action with the other. She was only wearing her shift now. His hand cupping her foot felt deliciously forbidden, and when he moved slightly, the sensation filled her all the way to the top of her head.

When she shuddered, he rose to his feet in one smooth movement and took her hands.

“Come. Let’s get you into bed. You’ve had a rough evening and you need your rest.”

Rest? That wasn’t what she was thinking of now. But she was weak and aching, and once he pointed it out, weariness seeped down to her bones. She’d gone one month fighting this way for the rest of her life exhausted her.

But she liked his hand in hers. Wanted to feel more of it.

He drew back the covers of the bed and helped her to climb in. She lay back against the pillows, watching him. To her consternation he covered her up.

Before she could think over what she was saying she risked rejection one more time. “Are you not joining me?”

His eyes widened and darkened, or was that because he’d turned to reach for the candle snuffers? No, because when he looked back at her he appeared the same. A richer expression impressed his features.

“Why would you want that?”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

If he offered to call French to attend to her she’d kill him. When she felt better.

Thankfully, he did not. Watching her, he began to unfasten the buttons on his waistcoat.

His clothes followed his coat on to the chair in quick succession. Waistcoat, breeches, stockings, shoes, and finally underwear. He tore off his stock and tossed it on the chair, then turned to her, clad only in his shirt.

He could have been wearing a nightshirt, like their first evening, as the folds of his shirt came down to mid-thigh. “I’ll stay until you sleep. But you’re tired. It drags at you, I can see it, so don’t deny it.”

If all she could have was his presence, she’d take it. She enjoyed watching him approach the bed, his muscles flexing easily, clearly discernible under the fine linen. Before joining her, he took the snuffers and extinguished the candles in the room, all but the ones set on the bed head.

He crossed to her side of the bed and extinguished those, too, pinching them out without bothering to use the snuffers. Then he walked around, his figure dimly visible, the white linen ghostly in the gloom, and got into bed with her, disdaining the use of the step.

When he lay down next to her and pulled the covers over them both, he turned to face her, his arms open. “Come here.”

Gladly, she went to him, felt his arms close around her. “You won’t leave?”

“I won’t leave.”

His warmth surrounded her, his body protected her. For the first time in forever, Sophia felt completely safe. She slept in his arms, drifting deeply into profound, exhausted slumber.

Max castigated himself for all kinds of fool. Holding this woman in his arms, he let his mind roam free instead of forcing it along its usual rational lines.

What a mess he’d made of his marriage! He could have been doing this and more every night had he treated her with the respect and consideration she deserved. Instead, he’d allowed half-formed rumors and his business to set barriers between them. Any longer, and the barricades would have become insurmountable.

The light of dawn filtered through the bedroom shutters and over the bed. He hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains around so the light fell over them. Other than drawing up the sheet so it didn’t bother her, he didn’t move, but watched his wife as the pale light delineated her features.

She had a fine-drawn face, with softly rounded, full lips and a firm jaw. Heavy eyelids, sweetly flushed cheeks. She revealed an innocence he was loath to disturb. But he would.

On their wedding night, he’d taken her with a cool efficiency and two ambitions. To discover if she was a virgin, which he did before he pierced her body, and to create the possibility of a child.

The act had felt profoundly wrong, or rather, the way he’d done it had. By trying to make the intimate side of marriage easy for her, he’d in fact made it harder. He hadn’t known what to do.

He, the incisive, ruthless businessman, had fouled up his own marriage because of indecision. Should he return to her? The two days he’d planned to give her to recover from the wedding night had stretched into a week, and then longer. Easier to let matters slide than to revisit that shocking need that had brought him to his knees when he let himself think of that night and what he wanted from her.

His raw emotions had only grown worse. He wanted her with a longing he fought hard to overcome. Nobody should have that power over him. He couldn’t afford to give that kind of control to anyone.

But the more he struggled, the worse it grew. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more, the memory of her sweet body and her trusting eyes haunting him. His body knew, instinct told him more waited for him, and he hadn’t trusted it. Had run from it.

Sophia lay breathing softly in his arms, and he felt like the strongest of men, merely because she was here and at her most vulnerable with him.

When John Hayes had returned into her life, jealousy had reared its head, adding to the toxic mix of emotions he tried so hard to tamp down.

Sophia’s father had told Max that he’d interrupted an intimate encounter. Although Sophia showed no sign of wanting to resume that, she’d allowed the man near her, seemed friendly with him. Was she thinking of taking her previous suitor as a lover?

Not while Max lived.

She opened her eyes. She gazed at him, and before he could let his clever mind persuade him that she didn’t want him, he kissed her.

He made the kiss count. He melded his mouth to hers. Her hand stole out of the covers and around his neck and pulled him closer, so her breasts pressed against his chest. Her nipples hardened, twin pinpoints in the center of all that softness.

When he shifted his head to one side, the better to seal their kiss, she opened her mouth, and he took her invitation to enter. Their tongues twined and caressed.

Moaning, he spread his hand wider where it rested on the small of her back and sent it seeking. Her buttocks were curved, and they filled his hand with a perfection he’d never discovered in anyone before. She just…fit him.

With an effort, he finished the kiss and drew away far enough to gaze into her eyes. Soft brown pretty eyes, if still a little red-rimmed. But that was his fault. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t say it enough.

To his surprise she rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t all your fault. I pride myself on my courage, but I had none when it came to you. I should have come to you earlier.”

He cupped the back of her head with his free hand, threading his fingers through her soft hair. “We could spend the morning castigating each other. Or we could begin our marriage properly. Only if you feel well enough,” he added belatedly.

He received a sunny smile in return. “Yes, yes I do. I slept, and I feel better for it.”

“Sleep is good for some things.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Not for others.” His concerns dropped away as he gazed at her. “Not for this.”

Without warning her first, he flung back the covers, enjoying her feminine squeak of shock. Before she could find her bearings, he unfastened the buttons at his cuffs and whipped his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

He sat upright, hiding nothing, not least the heavy erection he’d sported for most of the night. Holding her so close, feeling her breasts move against his chest every time she breathed, had had its inevitable effect. He wouldn’t wait for her any longer. “It won’t be like last time.”

Her smile warmed him down to his core.

“Good. I knew it wasn’t everything. Otherwise, why would people risk their reputations and their livelihoods for it?”

“Good point.” He gazed at her, savoring her response. His nudity gave him strength. He hid nothing, boldly displayed his reaction to her presence. “Do you like what you see? I can cover it up, if you’d like.”

Teasing her, he reached for his shirt, but she sat up and put her hand on his arm. She shivered.

“Are you all right? Truly?”

“Truly. It’s excitement. I want you to show me everything, Max.”

“And then,” he purred, “You can show me. I believe once you understand the…fundamentals, you’ll teach me a great deal too.”

He glanced down at his cock, now primed and straining to get at her. As it had been for the last month. That frustration had only added to his short temper and frantic activity. “Do you want to touch me?”

She was reaching out before he issued the invitation. At her first tentative touch, he groaned, his arousal ratcheting up another impossible notch. He tingled with anticipation, not daring to touch her in return, feeling like an untried boy.

It got worse. Or better, depending on the perspective he took when she dragged off her shift.

“I thought I knew you.” He studied her body with avid fascination.

Her breasts were fuller than they appeared when she was dressed, probably because she wore relatively modest clothes. But now he’d seen them, that suited him well, because he wanted to keep them to himself. Hug the secret close, let others guess at their magnificence.

She had large nipples, soft and velvety, but they crinkled as he stared at them. He flicked a glance up at her face before he continued his perusal. The nest of soft curls at her groin indicated the secrets they ineffectually hid. Her aroma wafted up to him now she’d removed her shift. Delicate and essentially feminine, it teased his nostrils, daring him to move.

He must not frighten her, but he wanted that essence, to know it in every possible way. “Lesson one,” he managed to choke out before he eased her on to her back.

She opened her legs, probably expecting what he’d done before, but that would never happen again. Not in that way.